Uninvited: Musings of a Broken Heroine
by moiradeathwidow
Summary: Neria had finally succumbed to the memories of what she left behind when she escaped to this foreign world. And out of all people, he was the one to find her. Again.


This is a one shot which is loosely based on a story I've been working on. I find Tom Riddle's character quite fascinating and partner that with a Surana's complex beginnings, I think we have a good plot for a story. Anyway, this piece didn't undergo a beta checking so forgive me for the grammar lapses and other errors. Also, this is mostly created to check if it's a good idea to continue working on the story so, if you read this, please tell me what you think!

Disclaimer: Harry Potter is owned by JK Rowling and Dragon Age is owned by Bioware. I just wanted to play in the sandbox both these fascinating worlds created.

* * *

The third floor corridor reminded her so much of home.

"_It's called home now, eh?_", Neria Surana mused dryly.

Walking down the darkened corridor with only the occasional lamps illuminating the walls and eerily streaming long shadows on the corners, Neria tried to ignore the stream of memories that's clouding her tired eyes.

''Tis not home, 'tis not home', Neria murmured under her breathe while clamping her eyes shut and pressing her fingers on her temples as if to somehow block the memories from overwhelming her brain.

She stopped abruptly, concentrating more than ever to control herself. Like a dream that's blurred along the edges, she could almost see Senior Enchanter Irving, with his fatherly air and ancient eyes that offered understanding, telling her that she needed rest and to not waste her life away over books, that she still have a life ahead of her and friends to keep her happy, if only just.

She could almost feel Jowan's presence beside her, along with the whines and complaints that always come streaming from his mouth and self assuring glances he throws her way to check if she's still listening while he rambles on. She could also feel Ander's arms around her waist, also half listening to what Jowan is saying, looking like he all had time in the world as the corner's of his mouth twitch to form an unconscious smile.

She could almost hear the templars; the creaking of their armors when they shifted from one foot to the another , eagerly awaiting the end of their watch and the boredom of their supposed _divine duty_ of keeping her kind in line. She could almost feel their burning stares at the back of her neck, knowing that they're silently hoping she'll spontaneously turn to an abomination just to break the boredom of standing around all day and at the same time dreading it, for it would mean endless parchment of reports and the bloody gore fest of slaying a once human body. Mostly the bloody gore fest, as Cullen half joking half seriously once said to her, since it would take hours of scrubbing just to remove the stains from their armors. Cullen, with his blushing cheeks and warm brown eyes, had been Neria's secret friend and the only templar she'd known to treat her kind with respect. Always watching like a silent protector instead of a jailor, looking over her shoulders to silently read with her while she ponder over a voluminous tome at the archives, offering a kind smile when she passed him at one of the corridors like this…

Neria abruptly opened her eyes and looked around, half expecting to see Cullen standing against the wall, full templar armor compliments, of course. Finding that no one's with her on the dimly lit corridor, she turned her eyes to look at the window and found herself staring at the reflection that greeted her. Short wispy raven hair stuck on all ends, dull amethyst eyes that held no warmth, sickly pale complexion that told her, no Neria, she is not you anymore.

Letting the memories fill her, she can feel her once friends reassuring presence, closing around her and soothing her uncertainties. _Anders_, she thought as unwelcomed tears formed under her closed eyes. Foolish Anders who thought he could protect her and help her escape the Maker forsaken place they call Home. Such fools they were - she, Jowan and Anders - thinking that there's a different set of life awaiting them outside the tower of Magi. She wanted to tell them that they've been wrong, oh so wrong. All of them had escaped alright, but nothing has changed, nothing of significance. She wanted to tell them many things but knew it would not be necessary - one was dead, one running for his life and wanting to change the fate of her kind, and one stuck in a school called Hogwarts, escaping the terror and destruction she created like a coward she'd always been.

She smirked to herself. _Cowardice_, such a powerful word. She had always prided herself to be strong and brave and all the things her ideals had told her to be. Bravery and all, which ultimately killed Neria Surana before she even knew it.

Feeling weakened, she turned away from the window and leaned her head against the stone wall. This reminiscing is causing her too much. Here she is, still Neria Surana, trapped in the universe as Anders envisioned it – free mages under no scrutiny, calling themselves wizards and witches that have their own history and community, setting themselves away to those who do not possess the "gift". She gingerly touched her clothes, half expecting it to feel like the coarse material of her enchanter robes but instead found the smooth texture of the black jumper that's given to her as a uniform. Two years had already passed since she had been sent here to accomplish a final mission before she can move on. Two years, which is quiet a long time to still feel the guilt of escaping as if it was yesterday. Of what she left behind, of whom she really was.

"_Who am I, then?_" she asked herself.

Certainly not a human, 15 year old _witch _caught between the war of the mages in this universe; a quiet girl that shows aptitude in her studies and many considers a prodigy. She's also not the elven mage who had been naïve with the ways of the world, talented and gifted with the ways of elemental force and blood magic. Not the powerful shape shifter Morrigan had taught, not the best friend of the Orlesian red- haired spy Leliana, not the _Mia Cara_ of the Antivan assassin Zevran, not the Kadan of the stoic Qunari warrior Sten, not the commander the Dwarven drunk Oghren knew, not the Grey Warden that ended the Fifth Blight and not the woman who been loved by the ex- templar, crowned prince Alistair.

Alistair.

This time, she let the tears flow.

Alistair, who had been her friend, her Grey Warden brother in the tainted blood, her most trusted companion, her lover. The ex templar with his strawberry blonde hair, the overly optimistic bordering to simplistic views, the great believer of right and wrong, the person who pulled her from the darkness with his warm brown eyes, and smile that make her feel like she can be whoever she wanted to be. The only person she wanted to be like, who have made her believe that hate and anger aren't the powerful of all emotions. The person who believed in her, who wanted to see her as someone ideal and someone like him. The person who's face had been etched with agony, shock, surprise, fear and above all disappointment when she struck the fallen archdemon with her blade for a farewell that's supposed to be forever.

_Neria, get hold of yourself!_, a voice echoed from the back of her mind. _I'm trying, I'm trying! _But then, a flash of a vivid memory burned her mind. _A darkened tent, blankets twisted around a pale body and a muscular tanned one, rushed whispers as the moment of passion reached its peak. A soft musical laughter filled the small space followed by a deep throaty murmur. "Neria...",as he looked at her with those warm hazel eyes, like seeing her for the first time. "Ma'arlath, Neria…", he whispered, using the Elven language he knew she dearly loved. She closed her eyes, lest the flood of emotions became visible in her eyes and took a deep breath. She blindly searched his face and brought it close. Opening her eyes, she whispered, "And I to you, Alistair, emma lath" and closed the distance between their lips._

Head bowed, she folded her arms tightly against her chest while fighting off the memories. When the images faded and only silence enveloped her, she relaxed her arms and let it fall limply on her sides. An odd calm had taken over her mind and body, numbing her brain and leaving her in some sort of trance. She pushed herself off the wall and took a few unsteady steps to resume her walk back to the dormitories.

A sudden prick at the back of her neck made her aware of somebody's presence behind her at the third floor corridor. She swiftly turned around and seeing that no one is there, she crouched and her hand automatically slipped at the handle of her dagger, hidden beneath her skirt. Neria knew that her position is somewhat out of place if someone with no intention to harm her would see. However, warrior instinct took over and with the memories resurfacing just moments ago, Neria found that she doesn't give a damn.

Seconds ticked by and she tried to use her Elven senses to see through the darkened corridor. Unfortunately, her abilities were not as keen as before as when she is in Thedas and the glamour charm, put on her to conceal her pointed ears by one of the Senior Enchanter Dumbledore, is also blocking most of her natural abilities such as far sight. Remembering what Zevran had told her, she should patiently wait for the supposed hunter to show their face and let them make the first move to analyze a counter.

Neria isn't on one of her patient mood today.

Making up her mind to just throw the poisoned dagger on where she felt the presence strongly, she was about to draw her dagger when a pale, tall figure emerged from the direction she have taken. Recognizing the person, she relaxed from her position and stood up slowly. Feeling rather calm, she passively stood in her position while watching the other student walk towards her.

"Good evening, Ms. Surana", said the student with his infamous velvety, deep voice. He stood two steps from her, struck a rather tall, imposing stance with his hands clasped behind his back. His face reflected polite interest.

Aristocratic features, pale complexion, immaculate hair, with the air of authority and perfection swirling around him. _Yes_, she thought dryly. _The person I'm most thrilled to see tonight._

"Good evening to you too, Mr. Riddle", she replied with a hint of coldness in the edges. Craning her head up to meet his eyes that silently bore on her, she added, "It's a fine evening, isn't it?"

Never breaking eye contact with her, Riddle said, "Yes, it's a fine evening".

A moment of silence.

"Can I ask what are you doing in this corridor at the late hours of the evening?", he asked politely. He inclined his head slightly, as if interested with the reason she might give. The move is graceful; almost mechanical.

Finally, Neria turned her eyes away. She's too tired to have a staring match with Riddle right now when she should be off resting her poor tortured brain for the stream of memories this evening.

She deeply sighed and said, "No, you can't", then turned to walk away.

Before she can take a step further, she felt a hand tightly grip her right wrist and she was yanked back. She was spun around and was forcefully pushed to a wall, creating a sharp pain at the back of her head. She closed her eyes to welcome the pain and when she opened them, Riddle's face was hovering inches away from her. He had her pinned against the wall; his palms pressed firmly against the wall on her either side. After the initial shock, she collected her expression and stared back to him, noticing that his grey eyes were showing myriad of emotions, all of them unwelcome to her.

"Do not walk away from me when I'm still talking to you", he said in a low, quiet voice with a lace of menace underneath. She met his intense gaze, flinching slightly with the intensity of emotions she found in his eyes. Emotions are not something Neria often associate with Tom Riddle - for the latter is always sporting a calm, polite and indifferent mask when dealing with everyone as far as she can remember. She must admit that Riddle did unnerve her at some point. He constantly stares at her during classes, mealtimes or whenever the opportunity presents itself, with a detached expression as if she's a problem he's trying to solve. Most of her classmates thought that Riddle has taken an interest with her romantically; but Neria knew better. He has taken an interest with her, that's true, but it's for an entirely different reason at all.

After a minute of a silent staring down contest, Riddle's furious gaze turned to a curious, amused one.

Incredulity must have been written all over her face as she registered his expression because Riddle had chuckled – Andraste's flaming knickers, _chuckled_ _– _as is they're sharing amusing stories over tea.

_Insane_. That's another word to add the many facets of this Tom Riddle fellow. Neria had listed down several adjectives on her head after her encounters with him, which is disturbingly _many _considering they're not even friends. Many of her _schoolmates_ thought that Riddle's fascinating – with his raven hair, grey stormy eyes, charming smile, intelligence, symmetrical features to be called handsome – no wonder that many people find him likeable. However, upon setting her eyes on him for the first time, she knew. The Fade, even on this plane, seemed to be following him unlike with all the rest of the mages – _wizard – _in this school. There are sloth demons, master of disguises; desire demons, feeding on obsession and cravings and finally, the pride demons, prowling the boy's mind to the so called success and channeling out the Fade's energy to be used to fuel this ambition.

At first, he tried to befriend her and afterwards tried to court her with his gentlemanly ways. When none of the subtle arts work, he resorted to threats, intimidation and finally, with magical assaults. _ Now there's a good memory_, she thought inwardly. The boy tried to use a curse on her – the mages of this world called it the dark arts – in which she successfully prevented by using Sustain, a blood magic spell that sucks the life force out of the target. It really felt good at the time, the life force flowing in her making her more powerful. It's just that she remembered that causing serious harm towards a fellow student would get her kicked out faster than she can say "Maker on Andraste's *bleep*" so she lifted the spell after a few seconds, leaving the boy unconscious for at least half an hour. When he finally come around, she was there sitting beside him after healing all the injuries she caused. Riddle had a sense to just look at her with pure hating radiating from his whole being - she wondered she didn't die with glaring alone - and strode away, marking an unspoken agreement between them to ignore each other's existence.

But that agreement doesn't exist however. If it does, then she wouldn't be cornered here at the third floor corridor with the chuckling Tom Riddle as if she just said something amusing.

"Pray tell, what seems to be funny, Mr. Riddle?", Neria asked quietly, still looking at his face rather expectantly, perhaps thinking that they might need to finish what they started a year ago.

Riddle just looked at her, a smile that didn't reach his eyes forming on his lips. " I'm just wondering what I would need to do to put an expression of fear on this small face of yours", he said softly, his eyes locked with hers. "So pretty. It's such a waste if it would only show indifference now when you're looking at me."

_Well, two can play the game_.

"Hopefully you won't see this pretty face of mine before you die, _Tom_". She leaned a little closer to his ears that she can now almost feel his breath on her neck. "_They say I look like a goddess when about to finish a kill", _she whispered.

She leaned back and watched the myriad of emotions flicker across his eyes. There were many she cannot name since they all been replaced immediately with malicious fury. Neria watched this transformation passively, indifferently. But deep inside, there's an unbidden force rising within her – consuming anger and the familiar emotion, fear. These emotions do not sit well with her, for anger leads to destruction and fear fuels it more.

Before Riddle can say anything, she asked coldly, "What else do you want, Mr. Riddle?"

As if snapping out of trance, he closed his eyes and stepped back from her. After a second or two, he opened his eyes, a mask of indifference slipped properly in place.

"Why, Ms. Surana, it seems to me that you're wandering the corridors after the curfew", he said conversationally, clasping his hands behind his back.

She raised her left eyebrow and was about to explain but Riddle cut her off

"However, since we are of the same house", Riddle said, smirking, "I won't deduct house points at this time. But please be advised that I won't be lenient the _next time_."

Neria felt rather than heard the threat on the last two words. With a nod, she pushed herself off the wall and almost fell over with the sudden wave of dizziness. She closed her eyes and awaited the impact to the stone floor. However, two strong arms caught her before she completely lost her balance and she was pulled to an awkward embrace. She tried to free herself but Riddle's arms are unyielding. He removed the hand holding her waist and put it on the back of her head, running his fingers on her scalp. "_Oh by the Maker, if he's trying to find the concussion and making it worst…_ !", Neria thought, panic rising at her throat. She didn't deserve to die like this. It seem so _weak_.

As she was about to summon her magic, a warm light had enveloped her head and after a few seconds, it vanished. The dull aching at the back of her head had disappeared along with the threatening formations of headache. She realized that he must have used healing magic on her but it didn't abate the fear and anticipation she felt on what he was about to do next.

Sighing in feigned relief, she tried to pull back immediately once she can no longer feel his hands at the back of her head. Before she can successfully let go however, Tom Riddle leaned forward and placed his mouth next to her ear. A shiver run through her, even with magic to conceal her ear which mark her as an Elf, it's undeniable that they are still the most sensitive part of her body. Damn elven secrets and anatomy, she thought angrily, while closing her eyes and letting the sensation overcome her lithe body.

"Be careful, _Neria_." , she heard him whisper, dark amusement on his voice, " I'm a curious person. Very curious, indeed. I will learn everything there is to know about you. It's only a matter of time, _emma lath_".

She stiffened and hastily distanced herself from him. Her gaze fell on his grey eyes, now filled with mild amusement.

"Surely, I haven't made you uncomfortable?" he asked mockingly, eyebrows raised. "That's the last thing I would've wanted. I wanted us to be _friends_, Ms. Surana".

Neria stared at him hard, mind furiously working on the possibilities that can endanger her stay in this foreign land. _He can', that's impossible! _Her mind screamed at her. _There's no way he can know! _Feeling her magic building on her hands as rage threatened to take over, she tried to control herself. She coldly stared at him, silently and defiantly daring him to continue.

Riddle just stood there, face void of any expressions. If she had known any better, she knew that he was calculating the odds of pushing her to her limit. After a stretch of charged silence between them, he smiled charmingly at her and turned to walk away.

Neria waited until she could hear the last of his footsteps. When only the silence screamed at her, she released the breath she didn't know she'd been holding. Running her hands through her hair in exasperation, she leaned back against the wall once more. _The Riddle boy is becoming __a nuisance_, she told herself. Remembering the fury she had seen earlier dancing from his damnable eyes, she shivered as a cold sensation passed her spine. Realizing that it was something akin to fear, something she haven't felt for a long time, Neria's face darkened with rage. She knew what she had to do. If she would like to live her days peacefully in this world, Tom Riddle must be removed. Killing doesn't sit well with Neria, even with all the creatures – darkspawns, humans, elves and other living things – that had fallen from her blade and magic. But, she cannot pinpoint exactly, there's _something_ inherently dark inside Riddle that's fighting to take control. This darkness she had only felt once, back when she struck the blade on the archdemon's skull and she was filled with the tainted soul of the fallen god. _Everything is tainted with a shade of grey, _she thought, remembering Duncan's words.

With that those words echoing in her mind, she closed her eyes and let the shadows envelop her once more.

* * *

_ma'arlath - i love you_

_emma lath - my love_


End file.
